


Dares

by Hatsunefangirl



Series: Truth or Dares [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Truth or Dare, alternating pov, dares are a bad idea, kinda supernatural in nature, kindaichi is an investigative journalist cuz why not, this may be confusing at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14743851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatsunefangirl/pseuds/Hatsunefangirl
Summary: Be careful with your dares.Oikawa should have known this.





	Dares

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this fic for the prompt in the Double IwaOI Week back in 2015, which was:  
>  **“If we discovered that we had only five minutes left to say all that we wanted to say, every telephone booth would be occupied by people calling other people to stammer that they loved them.” _-Christopher Morley_**
> 
> The reason why I didn't submit it back then was because it felt unfinished as a one-shot but it needed to be one, so I made it a series and kept it that way.

They say you don’t realize what you have until it’s over. 

Oikawa would like to laugh in the face of who said it first, spit on the ground and walk away. 

But the irony gets to him and it gets to him a lot. 

And he hates it, he hates it, he hates it. 

He thinks its bullshit but he knows, deep in his already sinking heart, that it holds a truth even until now. 

He grits his teeth. 

The pain is overwhelming. The shock is too much. 

_Oh god, I hate this day Iwa-chan._

Ha 

Haha 

Ha 

His head’s spinning, whirling with colors and consciousness and in and out… 

And in and out… 

…and in and out… 

The liquid that’s pooling beneath him is sticky and he’s tired, 

He’s drowning and he’s tired. 

So tired. 

He sighs internally because it’s a pain to do so physically. I wish I could call Iwa-chan right now. 

Cough. 

He wheezes for breath when a sharp pain wracks and mangles his body. 

Cough. Cough. 

Figures and blurs. Figures and blurs. 

_“Stay alive, young man!”_

Oikawa blinks, or tries to. He honestly has no idea anymore. He’s tired, he’s done. 

It’s agonizing. 

I dare you. I dare you, Oikawa! 

Agonizing to think, think, think. 

But that’s what they whisper into his head. 

Not a moment of peace. Not a moment of peace. 

**Shut up. Shutup. Shutup. SHUT UP. _SHUTTHEFUCKUP!!_**

He whimpers. _I want to see Iwa-chan._

_“Not so good looking now, huh, Oikawa.”_

His lips upturn. He tries to move his fingers for a few more seconds, a middle finger more erect than the rest… 

Eff you, Ushiwaka-chan. 

Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan. 

I want to call Iwa-chan… 

\--- 

The judge is staring at him like he’s some faulty criminal and should rot with the rest of the prison inmates in god knows where of a prison hold. 

Iwaizumi would like to send him a glare of his own, but his lawyer wouldn’t like it. 

Plus _**his**_ heart’s failing. 

He’s shackled in chains. 

And he’s tired, tired, tired of it all. 

He wants to go home, but the judge is killing him silently with his glare— 

Iwaizumi is pretty sure the judge would love that, if it wasn’t going to land _him_ in prison for murder, too— 

And the prosecutor keeps going on, and on, and on about what he’s done. 

He snorts, because, _yes, genius, I obviously did all that, care to add anything else?_

When his defense tries to say he’s not guilty, he just laughs in his seat. 

His prosecutor points to him and says murderer, 

_“He killed his own best friend.”_

THAT’S A FUCKING LIE AND YOU BASTARDS KNOW IT. 

It’s a whirl of angry shouts before his lawyer can get him to sit down again. 

The gavel pounding on wood only aggravates him. 

But Iwaizumi has breathed a little. 

_**His**_ heart’s about to go out. 

Ah, if only he could call Oikawa now, that bastard. 

_I dare you, Iwa-chan, I dare you!_

The sound of a symphony enters his ears, or maybe that’s his hallucinations gone wild. 

He doesn’t know anymore. He’s tired. 

The judge is staring at him coldly. 

Iwaizumi looks down at his desk. 

At his lawyer who knows his death wish. 

At the people behind him, 

Faceless. 

Restless. 

His handcuffs jingle as he tugs them. They’re tight on his wrists. 

Dares and lies and murder and tears. 

He’s done. 

The symphony comes back louder than ever. 

Iwaizumi wants it to go a little softer. 

Passionate nights and soft kisses. 

Caresses. 

Tongues and dances and games and demands and— 

Dare. We always do dares. 

\---- 

Stay alive, they say. Stay alive. 

Oikawa’s done and he’s done and he doesn’t want to— 

_I want to see Iwa-chan._

His heart’s erratic. It goes slow, it goes fast. 

It’s a symphony he’s found at last. 

A phone call’s enough. 

He sees blurs and tangles and hands and— 

Little bangles. 

_“He doesn’t understand.”_

THEY DON’T UNDERSTAND! 

I’m tired and I’m done and the symphony’s lilting to a halt. 

It’s almost over— 

_“Live asshole.”_

He smiles. It’s over. It’s done. 

Eff you, Ushiwaka-chan. 

He gasps. It’s hard to breathe. 

Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan. Iwa-chan. _Iwa-chan. **Iwa-chan.IWA-CHAN.**_

And the tears spill. 

Just one phone call will do, 

He raises his eyes and the symphony he’s composing is coming to a stop. 

This is goodbye. 

One phone call will do. _I’m tired._

Iwa-chan… 

_I_

He grimaces. _…dare_

_you_

. 

. 

. 

\----- 

It’s over. 

There are no tears. 

These were the last he’s said. 

The hall is silent. 

His lawyer looks at him. 

He’s pretty sure it says don’t do anything stupid. 

But he’s done. 

And his heart has gone to a complete stop. 

He’s done. 

There’s nothing more. 

He stands up. 

It’s over. 

His heart has stopped. 

The symphony’s over. 

The show’s done. 

So why’s the star of the show just standing there like he doesn’t understand. 

Ushijima is at the gates. 

“It’s over. It’s done.” _What more could you want?_

Answers? There are none. 

The media people are taking pictures; curiosity arouses them but not enough to move them. 

There’s a gun in Ushijima’s hands. 

He points the gun to himself. 

“Shoot me. It’s over. He’s already dead.” 

It’s bitter and true. 

Pills like that don’t come in a lifetime. 

Ushijima grits his teeth. 

He wants to, Iwaizumi knows he wants to. 

But Ushijima knows it is far beneath him. 

“I. Dare. You.” 

\---- 

Bang. 

\---- 

Kindaichi looks up from his omelet and toast. He’s stuck in a pub, the rain outside his guards. He doesn’t have much to do today. Kunimi told him, he’d take on the action live, while he writes the words in print. 

It’s not like Kindaichi had the heart to disobey him. On days like these, and on cases like those. 

He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to look at the tv screen anymore. 

The story was too painful and too close to home. He’s even surprised that Kunimi had the heart to do it at all. 

Sometimes, Kindaichi regrets. 

Regrets that he wasn’t there to stop all this from happening. 

Regrets never telling Kunimi how he truly feels. 

_[And look where that got him, he’s stuck in a pub while Kunimi is smooching some other cameraman behind the scenes.]_

Regrets ever telling Oikawa lies and half truths. 

Regrets the dares and stories and games they’ve played. 

Regrets. Regrets. Regrets. 

There were a lot. 

He looks back out beyond the glass windows and decides the rain’s let up enough. 

He tips the barmaid and leaves, raincoat in tow. He has to meet Kunimi after this. When he reaches the court house, the medics and the police are still there. Media people are scrambling for a whiff of even a quarter of the story that has happened. 

Kindaichi can see it now. Newspapers selling like hotcakes. Stories of a passionate love triangle gone wrong, or some other bullshit most tabloids place on the headlines. 

_Well,_ Kindaichi thinks with a sniff, _they’re not far off from the truth._

But there never really was a love triangle. 

There was nothing there but— 

“I dare you.” 

Kindaichi looks up from his musing and spots Kunimi looking at his notes with a frown. 

“What?” 

“I dare you.” Kunimi repeats. “It’s both their last words.” 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who he meant. 

“Kindaichi, you don’t think-“ 

Kindaichi sighs. “No, Kunimi, I do not think. I know. But I also know that it’s not worth it.” 

Kunimi raises a brow. 

“They’re dead. That’s that. Let the dead have their peace. Let those who are still alive and in mourning move on.” 

“But their last wishes—“ 

“Will put us on a wild goose chase for one Kageyama Tobio.” Kindaichi finishes. 

He’s tired. They both are. The dead have had their fun. Let the living have their rest. 

They’re making us do a real life roundel, is what Kindaichi wants to say. But a part of him knows Kunimi is too distraught for anything more. 

He sighs. Kunimi is on the verge of tears. Kindaichi eyes the cameraman inching closer to his friend and Kindaichi decides he has to walk away and make an important phone call. He tells that to Kunimi though it’s the camera guy who nods at him and he leaves without another word. 

He heads for a phone booth. He fishes out an old, yellowing stub of paper with six simple numbers scrawled neatly in one line.

“Hello?” 

“Yeah, umm, hi,” Kindaichi speaks into the phone cautiously, “is this the residence of one Shouyou? Hinata Shouyou?” 

The safeword was the husband’s name, he’s been told. He’s kept it secret, tucked away at the back of the recesses of his mind. 

It’s never bothered him until today. It just meant another contact to the list. 

There’s a happy aura radiating from the line. “Yes, this is he. May I ask who is calling?” 

“Kindaichi Yuutarou. I’m a friend of Tobio’s.” 

The aura deflates. “Oh. Kageyama isn’t here right now. I can leave a message if you like?” 

Kindaichi heaves a sigh of relief. “No, no, it’s… it’s fine.” 

On second thought— 

“No wait; tell him, I will be visiting. I have important news to tell him.” 

**_Finis._ **


End file.
